Chapter 401: The Same Scorching Aura

“My father’s here, my father’s here.”

“Fang Ruoyao, you’ll die without a grave!”

Fang Jintu threw back his head and laughed wildly, as if seeing a glimmer of life—his face, once pale with terror, twisted with sudden hope, streaked with blood and dirt, grotesque and terrifying.

Beside him, Fang Jinyu, weakened from blood loss, suddenly snapped open his eyes; his dim gaze flared with a final, dying spark of life, his cracked lips trembling as he strained to look toward the forest.

Only Guan Peng never took his eyes off Fang Ruoyao—confusion and a cold dread intertwined in his heart.

True, they hadn’t expected Fang Ruoyao’s guards to all be Upper Realm Fusion Dao cultivators, so they’d been caught off guard.

But even if he had five Fusion Dao guards, what of it? The other side had six Ying Tian cultivators—such a vast gap in realm meant he couldn’t possibly survive; why kill them and then wait for the Fang family to arrive instead of fleeing?

He thought the man was mad, and prayed he wouldn’t be killed before the Fangs got here.

“Fang Ruoyao, you thief!”

Guan’s patriarch, shaken from his shock at the five Fusion Dao guards, saw his son’s bloodied face and screamed, voice choked with rage.

Fang Ruoyao turned his head at the sound: “Lord Guan, we meet again.”

“Do you know what a colossal crime you’ve committed?!”

“Someone came to kill me—my guards killed them. What crime is that?”

Guan’s patriarch, seeing the man still oblivious to his doom, shook with fury: “If you’d accepted your fate, tonight’s affair would’ve ended quietly. But you, a lowly peasant, killed two young lords—you must pay with your entire clan’s annihilation!”

Fang Ruoyao stared at him in surprise: “You think I offended you, so you came to kill me—and I must submit quietly, because if I resist, you’ll wipe out my whole family? So this is how noble houses conduct themselves? I suppose I’m just too ignorant to understand.”

Fang Lun could no longer endure their words; his eyes twitched violently as he fixed them on Fang Ruoyao: “Release my son, and I’ll give your entire clan a swift death.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Don’t think killing a few makes you even—death won’t be enough. I have a thousand ways to make you beg for death, to make you watch your kin tortured into unrecognizable wrecks, screaming for me to kill you before the end.”

BOOM—!

Before Fang Lun finished speaking, an elderly Fang clan member, hot-tempered and furious, struck without warning.

He believed a man who slaughtered so brutally and took hostages wouldn’t kneel in fear.

The man had only five Fusion Dao guards—crushing them was no challenge. Why waste words on a country bumpkin?

Better to act than to talk.

Amid the thunderous pressure of qi crushing the air, the Fang elder blurred through the night like a phantom, his withered palm screaming as it unleashed a blinding, sunlike radiance straight toward the pavilion!

At that moment, the armored guards inside the pavilion moved.

Five figures shot out like black lightning, movements perfectly synchronized; five battle blades rang out in unison, flashing from their scabbards!

Cold blade-light converged into a brutal, battlefield aura, meeting the Ying Tian elder’s overwhelming palm force head-on!

A deafening clang of metal exploded—blade qi and palm force clashed violently, the shockwave expanding in a ring, instantly severing peach trees mid-trunk, wood splinters flying like rain.

The five moved in flawless harmony, their blade strength astonishing—they blocked the Ying Tian strike outright, leaving the Fang elder’s eyes flickering with shock.

Fang Lun roared and surged forward with Guan’s patriarch; one summoned endless lightning, the other a fire spell, both striking at the flanks of the five guards.

The armored figures shuddered violently under the impact.

Three Ying Tian cultivators joined forces—their power shook heaven and earth. Though the armored guards’ blade techniques were masterful and their coordination flawless, the absolute realm gap crushed them instantly, pinning them beneath the storm of lightning and fire.

Meanwhile, the two remaining Fang elders vanished from their spots, racing toward the pavilion that drifted with endless tea fragrance in the cold night.

“Third Uncle, Sixth Uncle!”

“Kill him, kill him!!!”

Fang Jintu shrieked, all his hatred exploding—he longed to see Fang Ruoyao torn apart limb by limb.

Yet as he watched his two uncles charge into the tea pavilion, his peripheral vision caught Fang Ruoyao gently tapping two fingers outward.

It was a divine light—a blinding radiance that made Fang Jintu’s eyes sting with tears—then, with a deafening hum, it shot forth like a golden wheel, smashing both uncles out of the pavilion.

Plop—

Fang Ruoyao set down his teacup and slowly drew the black-gold ancient blade at his waist.

In an instant, Fang Jintu felt a scorching aura rise before him—a pressure like a mountain crushing down, shattering pain through all seven orifices.

Fang Ruoyao stepped out from the carved railing, his aura burning like an erupting sun, cracking the air into shimmering waves as his black blade came crashing down.

The blade’s design was ancient and plain—no engravings, no ornamentation, just a single blood groove. No spiritual energy, no technique—nothing.

Yet that simple slash, as it cut through the cold night, wrinkled the very air.

The elder, thrown from the pavilion, sensed something wrong—but had no time to react; the black blade was already upon him.

The elder Fang Jintu called “Third Uncle” roared, summoning a storm of techniques around his body, then thrust both hands forward in a sealing palm to meet the blade.

Yet in an instant of collision, his face turned ashen—he felt the blade cleaving down like heaven collapsing, his entire body trembling uncontrollably.

BOOM—!!!

The black blade fell—the surrounding techniques shattered like glass. The elder had no resistance; blood gushed from his mouth.

At that moment, a fist slammed down with crushing qi.

A thunderous explosion—half the Fang elder’s body was obliterated, his corpse flung backward, cratering the frozen ground.

In an instant, everyone—those rushing to rescue their kin, those pinning down the five armored guards—froze in place.

Scorching aura. Brutal fist.

Aside from the different blade, they might’ve thought they were staring at a dead man.

But soon they realized—it was worse. This man’s scorching aura was even more terrifying than the one they’d imagined.

ZZZZ—

A clear, ringing blade-song rang out; Fang Ruoyao’s white robes fluttered as his black blade fell again.

The second elder gasped in horror, summoning every ounce of his qi—but his surrounding techniques shattered instantly; his eyes froze as a crimson line appeared across his throat.

Before the blood could drip, his head rolled clean off his neck.

“Ji You…”

“It’s the same as Ji You!!!”

“Run… run now!!”

They were wrong. So terribly wrong.

He wasn’t some lowly soldier or a mere ant to be slaughtered by noble families—he was a god of slaughter, just like Ji You.

Guan’s patriarch was stunned—he couldn’t fathom how his son’s affair with a girl of no family background had drawn such a terrifying brother.

In an instant, the nobles’ arrogance shattered; they turned and fled blindly toward the peach grove.

Their eyes no longer held the pride of “I kill you, you die; if you resist, I wipe your clan”—only raw, desperate terror for survival.

The first to flee was the elder who’d fought alongside Fang Lun and Guan’s patriarch; behind him came the Fusion Dao cultivators who’d held back.

Seeing this, the five armored guards immediately raised their blades and gave chase.

The rest, in their flight, caught a flash of cold light.

Startled, they looked up—and saw the figure in moon-white robes, radiating scorching aura, descending with icy indifference.

SPLATTER!!

The black blade fell, carving a deep trench into the earth; blood and flesh exploded into the air.

These proud nobles died still bewildered—how had they, one day, been slaughtered like insects, cut down like melons?

THUD!!

A muffled crash—Fang’s second elder collapsed, his left arm severed, his body sprawled in a pool of blood, gasping desperately.

“Fang… Fang young master… spare my life…”

Fang Ruoyao glanced at the paralyzed Guan patriarch, then stepped on his head: “You said if I offend you, I must die quietly; if I resist, you wipe my clan. That’s your rule.”

Fang Lun trembled: “I know I’m wrong—give me a chance. I’ll serve you from now on.”

“No. You don’t know you’re wrong—you just know you’re going to die.”

“You can’t kill me… you can’t kill me…”